A Soldier of Two Worlds
by deadheadwookie27
Summary: Stephen Childs, nephew to the great Dr Grace Augustine, is plagued with nightmares from his war experiences with the US Colonial Marines. When his Aunt requests his assistance on Pandora, he jumps at the chance. Was it really worth it? Summary sucks avpxr
1. The Purge of Troy

A/N: Hey guys. I wrote this for my CW class, but decided (as I was planning it) to have this as a prologue. Here ya go.

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**The Purge of Troy**

What is the real colour of a morning sky? Is it blue or is it grey? Why is there that little hue of pink mixed in? You know which one I speak of. It's the one that rips your heart into a million pieces and throws water from your eyes because of its beauty. Yes, yes. That one.

The old shepherds had their qualms about it though. "_Red sky in morning, shepherds take warning._" People take that sky for granted. It can turn the burliest and toughest man of the North Woods into the smallest and most frightened child by a mere glance. Something with that much power is quite often overlooked by people.

It wasn't overlooked by Paul Sharp though, not as he held his brothers head in his lap. Not as he cried. Paul stared up into the sky, cursing man, cursing war. His brother coughed up blood. It run down his cheeks and soaked into Paul's fatigues. His brother had barley any energy left; his eyes already had the glossy mark of death. He attempted to raise his arm and pat Paul on the cheek. His crimson and crusted fingers never reached their mark. Another coughing spasm kicked in. More blood flowed freely from his mouth and nose. He made an awful noise from the hole in his throat, spurting another fountain of thick and warm liquid, and convulsed in painful directions. He died.

Paul shook with sorrow as his fingers tightened and twisted in his brother's dirty brown hair. No more coughing. No more painful winces. No more childhood laughs. No family. Paul was alone.

Below the hill, upon which he sat, cradling his dead brother, his patrol packed up and began to move out. Paul looked up at the sky over Cairo, rocking back and forth with a non-existent lullaby for his sibling. The pink hue of morning set in; remember the one I told you of? That's what Paul saw that morning. He decided that it wasn't beautiful. He decided that the old shepherds were right; it was the sign of a terrible omen. It meant that blood had been spilt the night before. It meant that blood was about to be spilt again.

Kissing his brothers forehead and closing his eyelids, Paul pulled the pin from an incendiary grenade and placed it under his brother's dead corpse.

"I love you bro." Paul followed his patrol into the unseen hell that awaited as his brother's body burned silently, another warrior going up to meet the gods on the top of their mountain.

***

When approached by members of the Osiris and Apollo Corporations, Paul Sharp was one of the most well-known men in service. His multiple tours in Cairo, Venezuela, and Siberia were well documented and well known; some examples were even used in history textbooks for scholars. Paul had a body count under his belt that no one man could compare to.

So who better to "buy" for security than the most dangerous man alive?

Lieutenant Sharp was a tough negotiator. His price even made the pockets of the two wealthiest Corporations in existence shudder with disgust. The real amount settled upon was never disclosed. Only two people knew it: Paul Sharp and Mr. Vincent Osiris himself, both of whom took that secret to their graves.

Even from inside of the drop ship, its cabin light casting an eerie, red light upon them all, Paul still felt the cold.

Olympus was their mark. A hundred degrees below absolute zero. The planet itself was far away from the sun. They, they meaning the scientists, gave him exact numbers. It had just hurt his head. All he needed to know about it was that it was really cold and really far away.

The planet was a large moneymaker. Big bucks type of deal. That was why he was barreling through its atmosphere on the inside of a tin can; large moneymakers usually led to one thing. War, and China had already sent publicized threats. Maybe not full a scale one, but deaths would occur. Even worse, quarterly summaries would drop substantially. That was _not_ allowed to happen.

So there he was, racing towards an icy hell with extreme speed and no determination. He wanted to get paid and leave. That was it.

His crew, if they could be called that, was novice. One of them, was talking jive and just making an ass of himself.

"You know," he started with a high-pitched Boston accent, "I like killin' civvies; makes me feel like god." He started to cackle. Paul glared at him. Killing civilians was looked down upon, but not illegal in the day-and-age they were in. Bob Linehue was quickly growing on Paul's nerves.

The marine across from him just sat there. He was big. Really, really big. Sharp had all his money that he had been a lineman in High School. Paul's scanner ID'd his dog tag: Joe Fifth. He looked Scottish, but Paul couldn't be sure, nor did he want to be. The majority of the guy's mass was pure muscle. He was a human tank. His bald head gleamed in the red light, providing a deathly shine.

The guy next to Paul was barely even a kid. He shook with nerves and looked like he was gonna hurl. It didn't even look like his boots fit him. The light went green, the "go-sign", and the kid passed out.

"Damn it." Paul reached over and began shaking the kid. "Come on, wake up. Wake up!"

"_Lieutenant Sharp, we are approaching the LZ. ETA: Two Minutes: Thirty Seconds._" The pilot shouted into his mic.

"Roger that. Listen up, people!" Paul stood. "We are approaching the LZ. Be advised that there has been no intel, nor any communications coming from Troy for some time. I want Fifth on point," the large man nodded, "Linehue you're pullin Recon." Before he could argue, Paul continued. "And when little miss sunshine here wakes up, he's taking demolitions. Is that clear?"

"_Achilles Tower this is Echo Two-Seven, clearance code 83945-6702, carrying Osiris reinforcements. Please send landing clarification sequence, over."_

"I want everybody to check their packs, their suits, their ammunition. Make sure there aren't any weapon malfunctions. Your weapon dies, so do you."

"_I repeat, Achilles Tower this is Echo Two-Seven, clearance code-_"

**Wheep! Wheep! Wheep!**

"Talk to me pilot!"

"_Son of a bitch! Multiple SAM (Surface to Air Missiles) lock-ons detected! Achilles Tower, this is a friendly! C__**all off your boys**__! __**I repeat, call off your boys**__!_"

The ship banked hard to the right, sending the marines out of their seats. Sleeping beauty woke up.

"What the hell, man?"

"_Shit, I can't shake 'em! Brace for impact! Tower, call those bastards off now!"_

The world went black.

***

Paul woke up in a snow drift. He was sore. Certain parts of his body stuck to the lining of his suit. That wasn't a good sign, probably meant that he was bleeding. A crippling cough tore through his chest. His mask was splattered with saliva and snot. "Crap," he muttered roughly.

Wreckage from the crash was a flame all around, being slowly swallowed by the blizzard. He could see the rough outlines of metal and mountains. The sky was purple and orange, the air still cauterized from the explosion.

There was nobody within sight alive. There were two charred bodies smoldered about twenty meters, both with melted weapons stuck to their hands. Paul slowly got up and limped into the wreckage. He found his pack, completely unscathed, and his weapon. As he picked up the rifle, a pain shot through his arm. "Damn."

After an incident in Siberia he had lost most of the functions in that arm. It had been shattered in nineteen places, but an anonymous donor had provided the money needed for it to be rebuilt with titanium and robotic circuitry. Even though he had a synthetic arm, the pain receptors still made it hurt like a bitch.

He grunted through it and continued on. After walking a few meters he found the upper half of the pilot's body. It was a clean slice. No jagged chunks of meat disproportioned the man's symmetry. A frozen trail of blood led up the nose of the ship and to the cockpit where the window was broken into a large knife-like shape.

Paul imagined that the pilot's legs were still up there, but he really didn't feel like checking. He bent down to close the pilot's eyelids, only to find that they were frozen in place. He couldn't even move the half corpse. Whispering a small and useless prayer, Paul left him and continued through the wreckage.

The fire crackled in the harsh wind, making the night sound eerie and hellish. Paul kept his vision wide and alert, he had no idea of what was out there. He didn't want to find out by surprise neither.

"_Umph." _

Paul pivoted his body, weapon already ready to fire upon command. He saw nothing, only a black and endless wall of shadow.

"Come on, move damn it! Move!" Someone whispered. Paul crept forward and pushed away some rubble with a gloved hand, sending another bolt of pain through his arm. ON the other side the sleeping marine from the ship was struggling underneath a heavy rotor. He looked up, his mask covered with blood. His head fell. "Christ Lieutenant! Damn near gave me a heart attack. Help me get this thing off, would ya?"

***

It took them some time to reach Troy. The SAM units had sent their ship spiraling a few clicks into a heavy wind. That meant a lot of walking through the cold. It wasn't really fun.

They reached the Osiris Corporation outpost within four hours. They spotted it at their one hour mark, far off in the distance, like a castle of old times. It was only a shadow then, but a large, intimidating shadow. As the two marines closed in, it only grew with size. The snow fought against its thirty meter high walls, failing miserably. The tough metal didn't stir from its slumber.

"Damn, hell." Kenneth whispered. They were at the main loading entrance, looking for a way in. The lanky marine had to bend his back and tilt his head until his skull was nestled between his shoulders in order to see the top of the wall. "How much d'you think it cost to build something like this?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Let's just find a way in." Paul went over to the key pad and clicked the Communications Link button. "This is Lieutenant Paul Sharp with the United States Marine Corps. Somebody feel like letting us in?" He let go of the button and waited for a response.

Nothing.

"Come on now, somebody's gotta be awake." He pushed the intercom again. "This is Lieutenant Paul Sharp, US Marines. Open up. Now." He let go.

**Static**. Nothing. **Static**. Feedback bursted through the speaker. Paul turned the volume on his arm control panel down so he could hear without going deaf. "Help! Jesus, please help!" It was a woman.

"Ma'am, calm down. Why do you need help? Are you okay?"

"They're all dead! Please don't let me die!" Loud thumping could be heard behind her. She was panting and freaking out. "No! They're getting in! Please help me!" A loud crash stopped her coherent speech and her screams were cut off, replaced with a wet gurgle. The feedback came on once again. Paul and Kenneth just stood there.

"Private, I want a charge on this wall ASAP. We are going in."

***

The charge was blown, they went in, weapons drawn. Kenneth's hands shook slightly and it didn't go unnoticed.

"How much action have you seen son?" Paul asked as they slowly crept into the empty outpost. The wind howled through the halls, echoing screams of the fallen.

"No-not too much sir. Little conflicts here and there. N-nothing like this though."

They walked past a limp corpse sitting against a wall, its head turned away from them. Paul took one hand away from his automatic and reached down with two fingers to take a pulse. The head rolled to towards them, a gaping hole in its skull.

"Holy Shit!"

The lower jaw hung agape, composed only of muscle and bone. It looked as if someone had taken a cheese grater to the skin. If the body hadn't have been frozen, it would have stunk to high heaven. The person was missing an eye, leaving a listless void that seemed to watch all. His nose had been torn roughly from their face, leaving stringy bits of meat in its place.

"What the hell happened?" Kenneth asked. Paul could hear the fear in his voice, he couldn't blame him, but they were marines nonetheless. They had to fight. They had to be strong. Hoorah.

"I don't know." He sighed and stood. "But stay frosty; I have a feeling that wasn't the last of the bodies."

***

Paul had been right, that hadn't been the last of the bodies. There were at least three dozen more that they found. Men, women, children, all mutilated in awful ways. Some were missing limbs, some were missing innards, some had their limbs sticking through their innards. One child had his intestines strung through her eye socket. They went down a hallway that was completely soaked in blood. It was like walking through a womb. Kenneth had threw up several times inside of his own suit.

The smell of his own blood from the crash, mixed in with recently added vomit, was making him weak. The censors in his mask had wiped the area clear so he could see, but nothing could be done about the smell. Paul knew that it wouldn't be long until the Private passed out.

"Do you have any schematics on this place?" Paul asked, halting them at a cross-section. Kenneth bent over and put his hands onto his legs.

"Gimme-a-sec." He took a few breaths and tapped on his arm link. Paul kept watch. A green light shone on the floor, it was a large map of the complex. Two red dots appeared where they were standing. "Looks like there is a medical bay about a floor up and two sectors away. Communications Room is near there too."

Paul nodded. "Let's get to it then."

The two ran, their standard issues pounding on the grating with syncopated rhythm. Each hallway got darker. Lights had been smashed out of the ceiling; their boots crunched the glass as they crossed. Messages in strange symbols and words were written in blood and feces all covered the walls.

They reached a stair case, Paul took point and glanced up. It looked clear. To be safe he lit his torch, good thing he did. They weren't alone.

A large… thing, looked down at them, emitting a guttural growl. It had four large and white eyes. Its skin was like a rotten piece of beef. The light must have pissed it off, because it curled its lips into an angry grin, showing its thousands of needle sharp teeth. The wall of teeth opened and a shriek burst forth, like a cat caught under a car tire but with the power of a gorilla's mating call. The thing crawled across the ceiling with no precision, spittle flying from its mouth as it screamed.

"Jesus…" Paul murmured. He opened fire on it, piercing its sponge like skin and sending blue liquid through the air. The creature howled in either pain or anger. Perhaps it was both. Paul didn't wait to find out. He pumped the shotgun on the underside of his assault rifle and pounded three shells into its neck. The beast moaned and fell to the floor; a red balloon-like sack pulsated on the back of its head for a moment and finally deflated.

"Sir… What was that thing?"

"How the hell should I know? Never seen nothin' like it. Never even hear bout it. Better get moving though, just in case any of its buddies come looking for it and find us."

"More?"

"Shut up and move Private."

***

The medical bay was destroyed. Corpses hung from the ceiling, half defiled. Luckily they found a med cabinet that wasn't shot-to-shit. A few bandages, a couple packs of sutures, two syringes, and they were gone.

The communications room wasn't in any better shape. They found the woman, at least they thought it was her, who had pleaded for help earlier. Her arm still on the console. A severed head was located near the body, the back of the skull cracked open and the brain was gone. Her torso had been smashed like a tomato, chunks of meat and bone lie scattered through the area. The windows were covered in blood. Worst of all, the radios and equipment were torn to pieces. Paul sat down in one of the chairs, took off his gear, and began to unbuckle his helmet.

"Sir, what happens if the air isn-"

"Isn't breathable? Come on Marx, look around. They were alive up until… Well, I assume they could breathe." He popped the clamp off, the mask gave a hiss. The vacuum seal had been broken. He let it fall from his fingertips. His face grew red and he grabbed at his throat.

"Sir!" Kenneth shouted.

Paul fell to the floor and lied there. Kenneth stood above him, not knowing what to do. The Lieutenant's eyes shot open. "Gotta act quicker kid." He stood and walked back to his gear.

"Asshole."

***

There was nothing they could do in the Comm. Room; their only option was to get to Achilles Tower. From their current position saw no blood in the windows, nor were any of them broken. It looked like a good a place to hold up and put out a distress signal. They cleaned themselves up, put a few stitches in Kenneth's head, and sat down to discuss how they were going to get there.

The tower was about four hundred meters away. They had two choices. They could both travel inside by moving through the corridors and keep it limited to close range combat, or they could go out through the loading dock and cross the courtyard. It'd be easier to see an attack coming if they went outside, which Kenneth expressed. Paul wanted to get there fast, and it would take at least twenty minutes to get a bypass on the lock from outside. That meant twenty minutes with their thumbs up their asses, right in the open. Paul was in charge. They were going through the corridors.

Kenneth went to the small bathroom before they set off, so Paul took the time to sit at a terminal and open up an empty interface. As it was loading, he pulled a small case out of his pack. Inside there were wires and a disc. He slid the disc in and connected the wires to a board under the screen. Then, Paul pulled up his sleeve and plugged the other end of the wires into his arm. Instantly he gritted his teeth in pain. There were clicks and clanks coming from his radius and ulna. His skin was moving, as if there were thousands of mice underneath the blanket of flesh. Bolts tightened and twisted, spun and screwed themselves back in place. Blood was pouring from contusions. A tooth broke as he writhed in pain. Suddenly it all stopped. No pain. He sighed with relief and looked up to see Kenneth staring at him.

"Right then…" He started, awkwardly kicking the ground. "We move out now?"

***

It smelled like musk. It was cold inside of Troy, but it was tolerable. The walls began to turn from black to a dark green, like they were covered in mold. Their torches glistened against the slick walls, shining exuberantly through the dark.

Their footfalls echoed down into the floor, deep through every level all the way to the core. The hallway seemed to go on forever. They continued on, looking down their sights. They came to another stairwell.

"Give me a flash." Kenneth handed Paul a cylinder. The Lieutenant pulled the pin and tossed it through the doorway. "Cover!" They took cover on both sides of the door. A loud bang sounded from the middle of the stairs as a white light erupted into the hall. Multiple screams came forth, all of them from the stairs. "Shit." Hissing was heard from behind them. Paul and Kenneth looked at each other before swiveling towards the way they had just come. Hundreds of creatures like the one before had swarmed the hall. "Double shit."

Kenneth launched a fragmentation grenade from the underside of his assault rifle. It connected with one of their attackers, tearing the vile beast into tiny strands of pulled pork. The shrapnel took down a few others, crippling them but not killing them.

"Nice shot Private. My turn!" Paul pulled out his revolver and swung himself into the stairwell. Kenneth held the hundreds at bay with warning shots; they seemed to understand what was going on. He heard six shots and multiple flesh on flesh contact along with select curses. Paul leaned out into the hall, covered in a bioluminescent blue colour liquid. "All clear. Blow the hall." He took off up the stairs as Kenneth pulled a C4 charge from his pack. He threw it and flipped the things off, quickly following Paul.

The first creature reached the small box with the tiny red light and sniffed it. It beeped twice and then clicked. The explosion tore through the beast's head, first removing its upper jaw from the lower half, its tongue flopped around sloppily in the open, before disintegrating it completely and the walls crumbled to block the doorway.

The explosion made Kenneth miss a stair. His right leg fell in a gap and his shin snapped as all his weight fell forward. He almost passed out at the instantaneously at the pain. He could feel the two pieces of bone rub against each other. It was bleeding profusely. He squealed a primal screech. Paul rushed back and pulled the leg from between the now crimson stairs.

"Jesus kid." He slung the Private over his shoulder and carried him up the remaining stairs. Kenneth was put down and leant against a wall. "Let me see it…" Paul reached down towards Kenneth's leg and pulled his knife from his boot. He grabbed a piece of moist fatigue and gave a small tug. Kenneth tried to tear himself away from the contact, but screamed as the bone scratched against each other. The top half of his shin pierced the skin and he passed out. "Oh boy." Paul scratched underneath the back of his helmet. "That's not good."

***

They had found a way in. Paul didn't know how they did it, but they did. Hundreds of them, some bigger and stronger than before, others smaller and faster. He did what he could, but Kenneth was still out cold and he couldn't take them all. Paul poured all of the fluid out of his suit's heating system and banged the butt of his rifle against the wall for some sparks. They created a wall of fire. The creatures screeched and recoiled, but didn't leave. Paul grabbed Kenneth and ran.

He continued towards the tower, but hit a snag as a section of corridor was caved in.

"You have _got_ to be kidding." He muttered. Paul had always been one to think quickly on his feet, but he was at a loss for the moment. There was only one thing he could do. He had to cross the courtyard.

A large screech came from above him. Paul didn't want to find out what caused it so he quickly left, making his way with Kenneth on his back to the docking bay.

The bay was large, basically unscathed. All the vehicles looked to be in working condition. He made his way towards the nearest one. No key. '_Screw it._' He thought. '_I'll hotwire the damn thing_.' More screams sounded from behind him. There wasn't any time. The hanger door was already open. He had to hoof it.

His sprint wasn't as fast as it had once been. The sun, even as far away as it was, still casted a pink hue for in the sky. Paul had the strongest of feelings that he was not going to leave Olympus alive.

There was no more wind; but the temperature slowly ate away at his skin, his suit was useless since he used all the fluid to keep those monsters at bay. Paul fell into the snow, his knees sinking dangerously deep. Kenneth rolled off of his back.

Paul dug his fingers into the white powder, breathing heavily. Hypothermia was already there. He looked at Kenneth, the boy reminded him of his brother. He wasn't going to let that happen again. Not on his watch. It was his job to keep those him safe.

They had followed the trail of blood. Paul could see the black swarm through his fading vision. They were going to eat him and Kenneth. No. They wouldn't eat anybody.

Their bodies leapt like hungry cheetahs, sprinting on all four primate like limbs, trying to get their fill. Paul made the decision quickly. He stabbed Kenneth with a stim pack, waking the wounded marine with a scream. Paul nodded to him, threw him a large stick, gave a small salute, and charged the enemy. He pulled a chunk of C4 out and stuck it to himself. Then he plucked twelve pins from twelve grenades. It was martyrdom for a cause.

The explosion rippled through the ground, sending Kenneth into the air. Still in his sleepish stupor from the pain, he didn't notice his leg tear completely off at the shin when he landed. All he saw was a cloud of white from the snow. He lightly squeezed his finger on something in his hand. A crackle set off a bright green flare. It flew high into the air and he slipped into darkness again.

***

There were men in thick armoured suits running around when Kenneth awoke. He was lying in the snow. A large warship was landing. There were weapons going off in each direction. A man walked nonchalantly over to him, taking his time to shoot a writhing beast in the face. He looked at Kenneth from behind his mask and smirked.

"Well shit son, looks like you've cause quite a mess here."

Kenneth coughed up some blood. "How'd you find me?"

"Easy, you shot off the flare." Kenneth didn't register what he meant.

"Don't you guys think that you should be watching for the others? You know. the others that we were sent here to fight?"

The older guy smiled. "There never were any others. Not too quick on the up-take, are you son?"

Something clicked inside Kenneth's head. "You shot us down." The other man nodded. "Why though?"

"Come on kid."

Kenneth thought hard. It didn't add up.

The man frowned, his old face sagging more than it was. "Look, there is no war. We made sure of it. This aint no mining colony anymore. This little outbreak needed to be taken care of covertly." He crouched down and rested his arms on his knees, letting a large revolver swing back and forth between his legs. "This is the future of warfare kid. Survival of the fittest. We don't need troops anymore. We don't need men. We have these… Things."

"You sick bastard!" Kenneth spat at the man but it just wound up on the inside of his mask, leaving a trail of thick blood running down slowly. The older guy just laughed and stood up.

"Colonel!" A marine came running up to them. "We just got word from forward command. They said site two is being overrun as well."

"Well this is just turning out to be a great day, aint it? Let me finish up here and I'll be on the first shuttle out."

"Yes sir!" The marine saluted and ran off.

"Well Private Kenneth Marx, looks like your job is done. KIA. So sorry to hear that." Before Kenneth could say a word the Colonel put a round through his mask and into his skull. Blood soaked into the snow and ice. The Colonel chuckled. "The younger ones are always dumb. Corporal?" A man came running up to him.

"Yes sir?"

"Take this body to the big mama. I s'pect she's a bit hungry." He walked off to a waiting chopper, stepping in and taking a whiff of the air. "I love the smell of gore in the morning."

"Why's that sir?" The pilot asked, lifting off the ground and into the pink hue of the sky.

"Smells like… money." They both laughed.

Meanwhile, as the Colonel flew off towards the other outpost, the Corporal did his job. He grabbed the corpse and walked over to a door under the snow. It opened into a deep pit. An angry hiss escaped into the air. It almost sounded like a sultry whisper _"Feed me. Feed me._"

He threw the body in and quickly closed the door before he could hear the disgusting slurping of flesh. The Corporal clapped his hands clean and picked up his weapon, walking back towards the base to help with the extermination. His dog tags fell off into the snow without him noticing.

Another ship landed, a tall man stepped off and sunk into the snow. He walked up towards the Corporal. With a glance at his chest, the Corporal immediately saluted.

"At ease, Corporal." The man said, saluting back. "I'm looking for a Colonel Alderitch." A creature came sprinting at them. The new comer reeled back and punched it in the face, killing it instantly. He looked back at the stunned Corporal. "An answer is more welcome sooner than later."

"Sorry sir, Colonel Alderitch just took a ship to the second outpost. Did something else go down, sir? They wouldn't send you guys in unless it was big."

"Shit. Hold on, hey Childs!" Another man ran over and the Corporal stood at attention again.

"What's up with him?" Childs asked.

"They don't run the regular corps like us. I want you at the second outpost, the Wetland Yutani one. Make sure Alderitch touches _nothing_. Wait there until I give further orders."

The man nodded. "You got it Capt."

Childs ran off and hopped on a leaving chopper. "Now," the Captain said, turning back to the Corporal, "there is something a bit wrong. You guys aren't supposed to be here. Osiris and Apollo are gone, bought out by RDA and Weyland Yutani. They want nothing disrupted here…" He paused and looked at the carnage. "And I'd say a bit has been disrupted. Come on Corporal; let me show you how the Colonial Marines take care of a situation like this."


	2. A New Start

**A/N**: Wassup everybody? God, it feels good to get back into the swing of things. So, I saw Avatar opening night, in 3D. FAVORITE MOVIE OF ALL TIME!! NOw, for you followers of my other work, you'd know how I get when I'm obsessed with something, and that's how I am now. So I'm using the Activist Survival guid for avatar, along with the wiki for it to write this new tale. THe only thing that upset me about the movie was Trudy's death. She was my favorite character in it, though they all kicked major ass, so im like, okay, screw it!

Now, on to the story itself. This takes a few months before Jake arrives, I'm not sure how its gonna go when the time line gets closer to the movie. I've read multiple things about Pandora hosting a bunch of ecosystems, so this is gonna start off in a subarctic region. What the hell? Right? I gotta have something to keep me sane. Hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

**A New Start**

The wind blew mercilessly in the southern most reaches of Pandora. The desolate landscape was traveled not often b y those who chose their own path. But the Ta'haow tribe lived day to day, every waking and sub-conscience moment in the desolate subarctic reaches of the moon.

Unlike their cousins to the north, the Ta'haow tribe was not bothered by the RDA and their pursuit of obtaining the unobtanium, which, in a way, was most ironic. For in the southern region of Pandora, lay the most infamous and rich batch of unobtanium birthed from Eywa.

And on the frozen lands, the Ta'haow thrived. Powerful, noble, wise, and strong. Strong in battle. Strong in mind. Strong in spirit. Strong in heart. That was their meaning, that was who they were. But a war would be taken to their land, and their lives would need fighting for, as a sky people ship hurtled towards Pandora. Life was about to change.

* * *

"Hell's Gate, this is echo seven-four-eight, please be advised that we are in route to your position with cargo."

"_Roger that echo seven-four-eight; what is ETA? Over._"

"ETA is… twenty-three minutes and counting."

"_Roger echo seven-four-eight. Transmitting a message from Doctor Grace Augustine for passenger Stephen Childs, Military ID 398756._"

"Copy that Hell's Gate, just one second… Go ahead and send, hey, marine! You've got a message coming through on your link pad! Hell's Gate, please send landing sequence and pad number clarification."

"_Echo seven-four-eight, you are cleared for landing at pad number-"_

Stephen Childs stopped listening to the commotion coming from the front of the Valkyrie shuttle. He could care less on what they talked of; all he cared about was getting to the base, laying in an actual bunk, and catching at least a few hours of r and r before getting back to work.

Encased in the metal ship, he couldn't see any of Pandora's beauty, as described to him by his aunt. None of the towering trees, whose arms reached for the heavens and were greeted with peace and life in return. None of the Tetrapterons, whose grace flight made people, feel inferior with their blocky legs and chunky arms. And certainly not the Hallelujah Mountains, a stunning, for lack of better term, phenomenon. Nothing. Just an RDA corporate logo and metal grates. That was it.

It didn't matter, he'd see it eventually. Sighing, he pulled out his link pad and scrolled past the bright blue neon screen and into the yellow dim message board. There, in red letters, was a message from his aunt, Grace Augustine. He clicked it twice, opening it on the first click and playing the sound through his private channel on the headset.

A radiant smile flashed before his eyes, it looked as if she hadn't slept in some time and the smile seemed a bit hollow.

"_Hello my darling nephew! It's been a long time, hasn't it? My, my, a Sergeant. Your parents would be so proud Stephen. I'm glad you decided to take me up on my offer, at least you have a brain in that jarhead… head of yours." _Her smile fell almost instantly; she cupped her face in her hands, putting her cigarette away first, and mumbled. "_Thing's here are getting testy Stephen. Shit's hitting the fan. Their going through my notes, they are tearing up the lab, the RDA think they run everything. God damn bastards!"_ She smacked a stack of papers and cans off of her desk. Her heavy breathing didn't sound good, yet she still took a long drag. "_I'm sorry. I just… I can't really say anything specific. We'll talk when you get here. One of the only people I trust here is a pilot. Her name is Trudy Chacon, she's going to meet you at the docking bay and show you around the base. I'll see you later kid._" She smiled again, slightly, more of a smirk, and turned off the camera.

Stephen leaned back and settled into the seat. "Landing now! Grab your shit and get out marine!"

_ "_Damn it." He spoke for the first time since entering the Valkyrie, his voice rough and low for a thirty year old. "Just got comfortable too."

* * *

A yerik stumbled through gnarled and thick tundra brush. It looked up at the purple hue, whispering the word of her mother, the beautiful night sky hung protectively above. The gentle beast went back to walking.

Fifty meters away, a pair of yellow eyes broke through the night. They followed the yerik closely, watching each breath, watching each step it took. Bursts of smoky air moved past the yellow orbs, breaking into pieces amongst the branches of tundra bush. Haudö'laktii held her breath and waited.

The yerik quickened its pace, and Haudö'laktii pursued just as quietly as the wind. Her leather footwear didn't crunch in the snow, it glided across the glossy top. Her blue and yellow hide poncho caught on not one branch. She was the ultimate hunter. Or so it was thought.

Somewhere behind her, watching her as she watched the yerik, was something much, much worse. A palulukan, the ultimate killer. It was death. A Navi may have been a spectacular hunter, at best, but the palulukan was death itself. Eywa had been more than efficient when making sure that death was the best.

The creature cocked its head to the side, watching with interest. It wasn't hungry for the blue killer, but the way it moved enthralled the palulukan to no end. Limberly, even in the howling wind and stinging snow, it moved gracefully. The glowing light from Polyphemus lit up the valley where the blue killer stalked the precious meat. That's what the palulukan was after, another of Eywa's creatures. It began to move, slowly, but efficiently keeping up with the blue killer.

Haudö'laktii listened to the yerik move. It wasn't feeling well. She could hear its labored breathing over the howling wind; she could see how limply it moved. It was an easy kill. It was a gift from Eywa.

Gifts always come at a cost, most are larger costs in the southern hemisphere of Pandora. As Haudö'laktii moved in for the kill, a roar made her clothing seem inexistent. Her skin and blood froze, her mind whimpered in fear. A palulukan leapt out of the darkness at her, at her kill. Eywa must have chosen her to be placed with her mother and father. It was her time to become one with her race.

* * *

Hells Gate was huge. Six point one six kilometers, yeah, huge was an understatement. Echo seven-four-eight landed on platform three, dumped Childs off along with his equipment, and took off into space again. Stephen didn't think twice of it. His gear would find some way into the base. Fastening his exopack to his face, he made his way to the nearest hanger.

AMP suits walked and ground their way across the rough gravel surface, kicking dust up high into the bright light. He still didn't look at the flora; all he wanted was a cot. That's it. A vehicle almost ran him over, blaring its horn and the driver flipped him off.

"Damn newbie!"

It didn't matter to him. He'd read up on the RDA. All of their employed security teams were ex-marines. He held authority over them. Hell, he'd held authority over them even when they were in service. Colonial Marines always held authority.

He got into the hanger, unscathed, and took off his exomask when the door closed behind him. Thirty rows of Scorpion and Samson aircraft were in front of him. At the end sat a large, flying fortress with a dragon decal on its side. He let out a low whistle. "Damn."

"Pretty impressive, huh?" A woman asked from behind. Stephen nodded and turned to face whoever it was who was talking to him. The woman, in either her late twenties or early thirties, was gorgeous. She had tan skin, a radiant smile, smooth and flowing black hair, a small scar under her right eye, and just the tiniest, most eager bounce to her step.

"Yes, it is rather impressive. Where I come from I don't see too many personalized fliers and certainly nothing like that. Stephen Childs, by the way." He stuck out his hand. She smiled at him and put a strong grip into her handshake.

"Trudy Chacon at your service. Nice to finally meet you Mr. Childs, Doc's told me a lot about you." She snapped her gum through her smile. "Where's your luggage?"

"Well, I must have done something to piss in the pilot's cereal that brought me here, because he just left me out on the landing platform and my shit is still out there." Trudy's smile faltered for a moment and she bit the inside of her lip.

"Really? Wait here a second." Trudy pivoted on the spot, her small, but firm and fit physique filled the flight suit flawlessly. She marched up to an AMP suit driver, jumping up onto one of the platforms while it was moving, and opened the hatch. The driver began to say something, but she grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head, and began to talk very quietly to him. After a minute of verbal abuse, she jumped down and glared at him. The driver took off towards the landing platform where Child's supplies still sat.

Trudy walked back over, resting her forehead in the crook between her thumb and pointer finger, shaking them both. She stopped and looked up at him "I'm really sorry about that, you'll have your stuff soon enough."

"It wasn't that big an issue, but thanks." She smiled at him again, that same, goddamn intoxicating smile.

"Well, shall I show you around Hell's Gate?"

"You know, I'd really just care for a cot if you don't mind." Trudy shook her head.

"Of course not. Doc said you'd be tired. Hope you don't mind, but we are bunking in the same room. I fly science crew, and you being security with us makes you part of the team. That, and I heard you aren't a stuck up, standard issue like the rest of the RDA guys." If he'd been ten years younger, Child's might have blushed. But, he was too old for that anymore. He just smiled. Though, it seemed as if there was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Sounds like my Aunt has been doing a lot of talking." Once again, Trudy smiled.

"That might be an understatement." She laughed, they both laughed, and Trudy Chacon broke years of barriers that Stephen Childs had put up to block people out.

* * *

Haudö'laktii hissed as the palulukan swiped a large claw at her. It growled and backed into its lunging stance. Haudö'laktii pulled a large knife from her leg pouch. She crouched and strafed around, never turning her back to the creature. It was getting more and more difficult to stay standing. The harsh winds of Eranda had begun to blow harder and harder, throwing snow into her eyes and at the outer reaches of her skin. No bioluminescent light shone. There was nothing left to the land, besides Haudö'laktii and Nїїk'ta, the palulukan that killed her family.

* * *

**A/N**: So, I hope you guys enjoyed chapter 1. I went through several drafts, two computers, seven thumb-drives, and a couple meltdowns to get it.

So, a few things.

-Yes, Stephen Childs is a colonial marine, from James Cameron's oither masterpiece: Aliens.  
-No, this will not be a crossover. I'm going to use elements and such from both universes, but no, there won't be any aliens on Pandora.

-YES, Childs and Trudy are going to be a pair. Deal with it :-p

-I'm going to explain other things all the time, at the end of each chapter. If you guys have any questions, just message me or leave a comment bout it and I'll respond in a message or in the chapter itself. I am going to have it split, the human and Navi perspectives, so I'm gonna be doing my usual jumping around. Thanks for reading everybody! Until next time, peace.  
SMH


	3. A Conversation meant to be

**A/N:** So, much thanks to my beta... type... reader, Hikarigirl, I re-wrote this chapter. I think it sounds a lot better, and just has more too it. Thank you once again to Hikarigirl.

_

* * *

_

**A Conversation meant to be**

_Bacon. That's what awoke Stephen. His mother must have been cooking one of her famous omelets. He sighed and rolled onto his back, looking up at the metal ceiling grates. The ceiling began to hum. The grates banged lightly together, making a small, irritating noise. It was hot in the room, which was strange because he always kept it cold. Oh well, at least he was home and out of the line of fire for a while._

_ Stephen swung himself out of bed and made his way towards the bathroom. The cool floor snapped at his feet, waking him up even faster, which wouldn't have happened if someone hadn't screwed with the heat. He took a leak and washed his hands. He splashed water onto his face and winced as the cool spray hit a pink and puffy scar that ran the length of his right arm. That was the main reason he was here, R and R, rest and recreation. One grenade in Venezuela, one grenade sent him back home; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where his parents had an apartment. He was lucky, one of the guys they had been with lost the use of his legs. _

_ He shook his head. Water flew from his bangs. Dishes clanked into the sink. Breakfast was ready; he could tell by the way his mother's footsteps fell. _

_ "Stephen!" She called. He smiled, mouthing her next words to his reflection in the mirror. "Would you like rye or whole wheat toast?"_

_ "Rye, please Ma!" Stephen went back to washing his face. He thought he heard something ring and his mother say 'Hello', but he didn't dwell on it. Still in his shorts and tank top, he went back into his room to change for the day._

_ He came out of the bedroom, and saw his mother sitting at the table, his food in front of an empty, wooden chair. She tightly held a Minnie Mouse coffee mug. Stephen walked over and sat down. He began to eat. _

_ "Hey, did someone mess with the thermostat to my room?" He paused to eat another bite of omelette. "Mom?" He noticed she wasn't looking at him, but at the wall in front of her. More like through the wall. "Mom?" He spoke louder, waving his hand in front of her. _

_ She looked at him blankly. Stephen shuffled his chair so he sat at her right and grabbed her by the shoulders, gently shaking. _

_ "Mom, what's wrong?" She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it, as if rethinking her words._

_ Tears sprung to her eye. She gulped. "Stephen, you're father… He, he's dead."_

_ Stephen just looked at her. "What? Mom, come on, what are you on about?" She shook her head fiercely. "Mom! What happened to dad?"_

_ Random words sprang from her mouth. He caught "freeway, company, money, embezzlement, assassinated". _

_ "Mom. Slow down. What happened to dad?" The door exploded in before she could answer. Bullets flew through the air, splintering wood and crumpling metal. Stephen jumped down on top of his mother, trying to protect her from the deadly swarm of lead above. It was too late. Blood pooled in her eyes. She coughed up blood. A crimson coloured hole in her throat showed she had been hit. "Mom!" Stpehen cried out. His mother handed him her Minnie Mouse coffee cup, forcing it into a hand, and her eyes rolled back into her head. "No! No! NO!" _

He woke up, silently. He always awoke, just in a different place each time. This time, he was lying in a bottom cot, below Trudy. He could hear her breathing softly, just over the electric hum that filled the air. Angrily wiping the tears from his eyes and muttering obscenities under his breath. He stopped before breaking the wall again, for when Stephen broke a wall, he also broke his hand. Instead he swung his legs over the bunk and rubbed his eyes with his palms, soaking them with salty water.

He looked at his clothes, still in fatigues. '_Good_' he thought, '_I'm, ready to go_'. One of the downsides to being a Colonial Marines, you were always ready for a fight. Well, maybe not a downside, but it was a slight annoyance. Since there was no fight, and there wasn't a soul up at that hour, he did the only thing he felt necessary, getting some food. Before he left, he riffled through his duffle bag and grabbed a coffee mug.

The halls were quiet, no one was awake. Stephen figured that the sentry turrets took care of all the security work at night. He didn't really care. All he wanted was food. His stomach growled. He sighed.

His boots clanked on metal grating. It was an eerie sound. With no one else around to hear him, he became cautious of how loudly he walked. It reminded him of his time on Olympus. What a hell hole, he shuddered just thinking about it.

A dazzling explosion of yellow luminosity erupted from the dark; even through the tinted windows Stephen could tell it was the sentry turrets. He couldn't hear anything, but he could tell whatever it was, fighting the gigantic weapons, was losing.

Up above the signs went by. He read each of them, until he came one that read: **Mess Hall -**. He turned and went in.

The mess hall was huge. Forty odd tables, plenty of floor space, and enormous windows at its far end. He left the lights off, allowing the bioluminescence keep things lit. Stephen walked into the kitchen, turned the lights on in there, and began looking for the shit they called coffee. Another sigh escaped his lips and the realization hit him that he'd been doing that a lot lately, and it needed to stop.

"Okay," he spoke out loud, filling the void. It echoed only for a moment, and disappeared into the darkness of night. "Where would they keep coffee… or whatever the hell it is that they drink?"

The kitchen was quite large, maybe fifty by sixty feet. Around the perimeter was one large counter, above were cabinets. Built into that counter were multiple stoves and dishwashers, adorned all in chrome. At the back was a large door, most likely the freezer. Stephen thought about going in, but he needed coffee first. Which brought his attention to a island in the center of the floor.

"Ah." He moved quickly, setting his cup down with a quiet clank, and looked in the cabinet below. "Crap, crap, crap, more crap… where the hell is the-"

"Coffee?" Stephen continued searching.

"Yes ma'am. Would you happen to know where it is, Trudy?" He asked.

"Hey, not me man. I don't drink that stuff, here that shit'll kill you!" He chuckled slightly and continued to rifle for the elusive drink. A few minutes went by; he felt her foot tap his back. He stopped his search for the coffee and looked up at her.

She smiled down at him. Stephen noticed how much clothing she was actually missing from her previous attire. Instead of her flight fatigues she wore a white tank top and green shorts. She was still smiling at him, kicking her legs back and forth through the air. "You know," she said, "there aren't many people I'm actually friendly with on this base, you should consider yourself lucky." Trudy nonchalantly shrugged.

"Thanks, I guess." Stephen said, wondering about the kitchen. "Look, I'm not really in the chatting mood. I need some coffee."

Trudy laughed at him. "I told ya, that shit'll kill you faster than a thanator in heat here."

"I honestly don't care… Ah! Hand me that cup will you?" Stephen asked, reaching into a cabinet above the counter top.

"Sure, but don't take Trudy's word for it. Just talkin' out of my ass is all." She hopped off the counter top, her feet smacking lightly against the linoleum. She turned the cup in her hands and stopped. "Minnie Mouse?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Stephen asked, dangerously low. "Damn bag is stuck."

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Raising a playful eyebrow she moved back a step or two.

"Not really. Please give me the cup." His tone dropped even lower.

"Hmm. I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. What are you gonna do about it?" A coy little smile appeared on her face, but Stephen's face turned cold and annoyed.

"Give me the cup, Trudy."

"Okay, jeez. I was just joking around. Why are you getting all worked up over some stupid cup?"

"It's not some stupid cup!" He shouted. Trudy was slightly taken aback, and a little afraid. He was pissed. His face was crimson; he was trembling ready to explode further. The one thing she had always been warned of in the service, was to _not_ piss off a Colonial Marine. "Don't ever, ever refer to that cup as stupid again; do you hear me, _Private_?" His words dripped like caustic sludge, slowly sinking into her skin. He had walked closer with each word, and began poking her in the shoulder as he spoke.

Trudy knew she had crossed the line. "Get your finger off of me before I rip it off." Her voice was just as low and malicious as his. They stared at each other for the longest time, each of them daring the other to make a move. Surprisingly, Trudy broke first.

"I'm sorry, I was just curious is all."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Trudy frowned even more, yet her face contorted into anger.

"Well I was just coming by for a friendly chat, but since you're being a dick I'll be seeing you around!" She pushed past him and flung the doors to the mess hall open, stomping across the cold floor.

"Great," she started muttering to herself, "another jerk. Just when I thought-"

"Don't be angry with him Trudy." A voice spoke from the dark. Trudy stopped and turned to face its owner. Even with the brilliant spectacle of light from outside, it was still dark enough for Trudy to allow her eyes to adjust.

"Doc?"

"Yes, and don't get angry at him. He's had a rough life." Doctor Grace Augustine spoke, smoking her customary cigarette and walking towards the young pilot. "Worse than you or I, for that matter, can really imagine."

"What did you hear?" Trudy asked, still on the defensive.

Grace smiled down at the girl, "I didn't have to." Her features seemed older than she really was. "You questioned him about the cup, didn't you?"

Trudy raised an accusatory eyebrow, unknowingly rubbing her arms free of goose bumps. "You're sure you didn't hear anything?"

Grace put a hand on her shoulder, the bioluminescence shinning in magnificently upon the two to where Trudy could see no lie in her eyes. "No. Trust me, I know my nephew well enough. That cup is the only thing that would make him turn against anyone that hadn't done anything wrong. It was his mother's, my sister's. She's dead now. He is the only family I have and I his… though by the looks of things…" Grace smiled and turned away back into the darkness, whistling an old tune.

Trudy stood in the glow of blues and greens, purples and yellow flashes of sentry turret fire. Even though the gate's held the world of Pandora at bay by great lengths, the magnificence shined everywhere. Trudy felt herself blushing, her anger disappearing, and her feet moving back into the kitchen.

"Stephen?" She asked. She saw him sitting on the island the same way she had been. He cradle the cup between both hands, just staring at Minnie Mouse's smiling face. He looked so… defeated. All anger she had was gone. His lost and saddened face saw to that. She walked into the room more. "Look," she started, "I'm not good at this, and Christ knows I don't do this often if ever, but I wanted to apologize." She awkwardly shifted stances. "I come off as a bitch, I know that," Stephen shook his head as a 'No'. "But, in all honesty, I like you. What I've heard from your aunt, you're a tough bastard. You don't settle for shit you think is wrong, you don't give up. We need more like you. I don't have friends here. I don't care, really, if I did or not, but I would like to have you on my side." She let her arms go limp, hanging at her side, she shrugged. "I just wanted to let you know that." She felt the pit of her stomach cave in. He hated her. Just when she thought she had a friend. She turned and began to walk towards the doors again.

"It was my mother's." He said, not even looking up. Trudy stopped and turned around. "My father was an employee, more of a CEO at Weyland Yutani corporations, big bucks. He never really had time for me and my mother, so we spent most of our time with Aunt Grace. I joined the Corps after high school, and was dropped into some serious shit. Right out of basic you know where they sent us?" he didn't wait for a response. "Cairo. During that whole, nuclear fallout thing. Hot, destroyed, disgusting… It was a hell hole. Day in and out I saw people, friends I had made, blown to pieces of shit. During the night people sitting five feet away from me would scream and bawl firing into the night as the mutated rats pulled them away. I saw children eating each other, side effect from the radiation poisoning I was told. Bull shit! People don't do that, kids don't fucking do that!" He shouted, tossing the cup. Trudy leapt and grabbed it, holding it to her chest. She then took a seat beside him, cautiously. He looked at her and she looked back, not breaking the gaze.

"I did four years there." He gazed back down at the floor, where the whirlpool of memories spun. "Then, without any leave, I was sent into Venezuela. We were there one month; my squad was helping out a group from the regular Corps. Grenade landed in the camp we had set up after dark. Some new type of grenade, made from the company my father and I worked for. It messed with the bones, blew my radius and ulna in half." He held up his arm, a jagged and pink scar ran from his elbow to his wrist. "That's what they told me at least, hell I don't know, things are a bit fuzzy still. The guy next to me, Sully I think his name was, got hit in the spine. Poor bastard can't ever walk again. I got to go home, dad pulled some strings and they replaced the bones in my arm with synthetic materials. That's what they were into. Synthetic androids and making money." He continued on about Weyland Yutani for a while, Trudy sat and listened to everything. Unbeknownst to either of them, she had begun to rub his back, and he had given her his long-sleeve. Neither noticed the pair of green eyes watching them nor the smile that fled with the body.

"One morning, I woke up. Bacon. That's what it was. Mom cooked some bacon. I knew something was off, someone screwed with the temperature in my room. I always kept it cold in there, always. It kept me alert, ready to go. Someone turned the heat up. Someone or something, hell, I don't know anymore." He cradled his face in his hands.

"What happened next?" Trudy asked, speaking for the first time since he started. He answered through his hands.

"I went to the bathroom. Mom asked what kind of toast I wanted, rye or whole wheat; even though she always knew it was rye. A good mom she was, she was Trudy, she was!" He cried.

"Shh, come on now man. I know she was a good mom." She leaned down and whispered to him.

"I wasn't sure if the tele screen rang. Maybe it did, maybe not. I got out of the bathroom, got changed, and went to eat. Mom was just sitting there, staring, holding this cup."

Trudy looked at the cup. '_Oh._' she thought.

"I did get it out of her. My dad died, no, killed she said. Mom broke into hysterics, sobbing out random words. I tried to get her to calm down, she couldn't. Then they came in, guns blazing. I tried, damn it I should have been quicker! I'm a Colonial Marine for god's sakes! But I wasn't. I jumped on top of mom. She was already dead. A bullet through her throat. Blood poured out from her eyes. I've seen a lot of people die. I've held friends as they went, screaming and crying. Right then and there, I wish I had been back in Cairo, watching the children eat each other. My mother died in my arms, the last thing she said to me was about the kind of toast I wanted, even though she knew, she always knew with me." He was silent for a long time. The only things that made noise were the air conditioning system and the freezer. Trudy still rubbed circles on his back. "She gave me this cup, forced it into my hands as she died. It's the only thing that holds meaning to me, material wise. I'm sorry about blowing up at you before. I miss my mom. I relieve that morning almost every night in my dreams. Does that make me crazy?"

"Trust me, I know crazy, and you are not crazy, not from anything I've seen so far." Stephen smiled, very small, but a smile nonetheless.

"Thanks. Honestly, I have no clue why I told you all that. But right now I don't really care."

"Well, I am pretty irresistible." She prodded gently. He laughed. "Can I ask you one thing though?" He nodded. "Who were those people?"

He sighed. "My father was good at his job, a little too good. He stole a lot of money from the company, spent it on cheap booze, women, and gambles. He did get a lot, yeah, but he was sloppy with it. He lost it, all of it; and the stupid bastard left his tracks wide open. They found him and killed him earlier that morning, on the freeway, but they had sent some guys to our place just in case. Nobody told those sons-of-bitches they got him already, so they thought he was home. They didn't even bother to check. The company I worked for killed my family."

They sat there in silence. Trudy let her legs flop back and forth, curling a few toes at a time. "Green?" She looked up to a raised eyebrow and back down to her toenails.

"And you're surprised?"

"No. Looks nice, is all." She smiled.

"Thanks. I'm really sorry about-" He held a ragged palm up, callused and broken.

"Let's not talk about it. You have nothing to be sorry about. I can be a dick at times."

"Don't worry about it man. I'm a bitch remember."

"We'd make a good team then. And you do still owe me a tour of the base."

Trudy gave a cocky little smile. "Sounds good to me, let's go then." She jumped off the counter top and begun to walk.

"I still need my coffee though."

Trudy laughed. "Don't worry. I told you, that shit'll kill you here." Stephen groaned. She laughed and the two walked out of the kitchen and towards the Hanger, where Trudy planned on beginning her tour.

* * *

Haudö'laktii shouted out in agony as she was smacked into a rock. She felt a rib break. Her bow laid in two pieces on the ground. The nasty air nipped at her skin. She could almost feel her eyes roll back into her skull.

'_No!_' she thought. She knew that it was not her time. Eywa would find a way to protect her.

The palulukan moved in close. Its jaws opened and closed with a shatter. Nїїk'ta moved on top of the snow effortlessly. It felt no cold, it felt no fear. It was going to attack. It lunged and Haudö'laktii barred her teeth, screeching at it. She swung her knife, but it only hit air. She heard squeals of pain, but could see nothing. She heard hissing and growling, she still saw nothing. She heard a loud snap, one that echoed through the wind and the night air for miles and miles, but saw nothing.

Loud bursts of air filled her head; the world was getting darker and dizzier. She'd die out in Frozen Plains of Eranda alone, she didn't want to. She tried to stand, but screamed in agony as the broken rib exploded in pain. Her breaths became shallower, faster, weaker. Before Eywa could take her, something came into view. Almost one with the world in its colour, it squawked and clicked, bending its long neck down to scoop her up. It was a gift, this one for surviving Nїїk'ta's attack. None before had ever escaped the beast, neither had anyone seen the Tireaioang Toruk, the Spirits Last Shadow.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, if you got this far, I hope you enjoyed it. Tell if you did or not, by using that small button right there. Yeah, that one.


	4. The Plot Thickens

**A/N:** So, I feel like shit right now. I couldn't really make this a great chapter. Next one I promise is gonna be better. If you haven't read the redone chapter two, go back. i re-did a lot of it. I'd like some more reviews, if possible. I don't wanna come off as a jerk off but I do work pretty hard on these. I am grateful to those who have reviewed and enjoyed it. That's what I'm goin for. Thanks guys/gals!

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**The Plot Thickens**

"Khione, do you copy, over? I repeat, Khione, do you copy? Over?" Robert checked his interface three times and had checked a previous four times. Nothing was wrong with it. "Sir," he called to Colonel Quaritch, "We might have a problem." The Colonel nodded and finished talking with Parker. He took a sip of the battery acid coffee in his cup, and made his way over to the desk.

It was morning, light shone through the tinted glass of the Command Center. Little beeps and noises were sprouting up from each terminal. The sentry guns were keeping banshees and other nasty, unclassified creatures at bay, system checks were popping up for all vehicles, loading codes were bouncing to and from their sources and owners. Everyone was working.

Quaritch wove between the multiple computers, reaching Robert in little time. He put a large hand on the desk and bent over to look at the screen.

"Well, Private? What's the problem?" He asked expectantly, taking another drink of the awful coffee he loved so much. Roberts's fingers flew with precision and with speed, pulling files to and fro, until he got a security feed.

"This sir, I haven't been able to contact Khione. No one has responded, I checked my equipment seven times. Something is wrong down there. This is the first time that I've been able to… What the hell?" Robert touched the side of the monitor with his pointer finger. He slid it back towards his palm, but kept it firmly on the screen. The image zoomed in. A large shadow grasped a smaller one by the throat and ankle. It picked it up and broke its back over its knee. "Jesus Christ!" Robert squeaked, his already high pitched voice cracking.

The Colonel snarled. He pointed a large finger at the screen. "Go and pause that clip." He turned to a communications booth. "Get Augustine up here, now! Told them they can't-"

"Sir!" Robert shouted.

"What is it?" He snapped back.

"That clip, Sir. It was live footage."

* * *

"I don't know Stephen." Grace told him, blowing out a cloud of smoke. She sat behind her desk, resting her head on the back of her chair. Her office door was closed. The two were discussing the RDA's advancements on her personal work. "I'm really getting sick of it. I can't go two days without one of those assholes busts in here and gives me shit." Stephen gave her a sympathetic smile.

"That's the thing about corporations like this Aunt Grace. They own _everything_."

"It's a load of bullshit if you ask me."

"Yeah. I know it is." Stephen muttered quietly. "You said they've been breaking in here too?"

Grace nodded. "I've found countless items broken, specimens left out and exposed to this filtered air. Pages have been torn out of my journals, wire taps on my communications, the works. It's really starting to piss me off."

"I'd imagine. Look, that is illegal without probable cause, but since the RDA run's this operation, they can do whatever they want and still get away with it…" His words trailed off for a moment while he composed himself. "I can't really do much. I'm not into the surveillance branch of the Corps. I can just make sure that you aren't hurt in any way." Grace smirked at her nephew.

"Thank you. I know you can't do much about their 'investigation', I was ju-" The communication terminal popped out of her desk. A marine technician appeared.

"_Doctor Augustine?_"

"Yes, what is it?" Grace snapped back.

"_Colonel Quaritch wants you in the command center, ASAP._"

"So basically that means now?" Grace asked, already standing up.

"_Yes ma'am_." She didn't even bother to say goodbye, Grace flipped the monitor off.

"Sorry to cut this short kid, bastard's probably having a hissy fit over something he can't touch." She grabbed her lab coat and walked towards the door. "We'll catch up later, okay? How about dinner?" Stephen smiled at his only remaining family member.

"Sounds great Aunt Grace. But, do you think I could get a cup of coffee before you go?" She smiled and patted his shoulder lightly.

"Sorry kid, haven't you heard? That shit here will kill you." His aunt just walked out of the room with a sadistic smile on her face. She loved teasing her nephew beyond belief. The sound of his head hitting the table with a groan confirmed her suspicions. She called out one last thing behind her, "Why don't you go find Trudy and bother her for a while." Grace left to go and see what the Colonel wanted.

* * *

"And you're telling me this why, Quaritch?" Grace asked. She was becoming increasingly annoyed with each word the Colonel spoke. Here he was blubbering on about some base in the subarctic area of Pandora. As far as she knew, the only RDA occupied territory was Hell's Gate.

The Colonel snarled, looking much like a viperwolf. "One of your blue savages has attacked RDA personal!" He leaned in close, bearing his canines. The scars that rand down the side of his face stretched and became jagged and it would have intimated anybody, besides Grace Augustine.

"Colonel," Grace began, rolling her eyes slightly, "plenty of RDA personal have fallen to the Navi. Why? Because you, Parker, and this damned company refuse to listen to me and my staff! Look, you pigheaded roughnecks don't get it. This is their planet. You'd better well remember it!" Her voice had fallen low and intimidating. She spun to walk out.

"They broke into the Command Center there." Grace stopped as he spoke.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Breathing _our_ air. Yeah, that fits your fancy don't it, _Doc._" His smile, that sick and sadistic smile, made Grace sick to her stomach. If he was telling the truth, then he was right. It _did_ fit her fancy.

She needed to see if he was bluffing or not. "That's a bold statement Colonel. Do you have any proof?" The bastard smiled. '_I hate this fucking asshole._' He pressed play on a video screen, and Grace knew he had won.

* * *

Stephen secured the exopack to his face. He checked that his weapon, an M41A pulse rifle, was tightly secured on his back. It was. He checked his boot knife. Fit perfectly. His side arm snuggly sat under his arm. '_Jesus. Can't walk ten feet outside without needing a weapon.'_ He thought to himself as he hit the air lock. The door opened and he shielded his eyes from the suns furious blaze. He had been outside not five seconds and he was already sweating. He wanted to go back in.

It was his first time outside since landing yesterday. It was just as stunning as he had been told. The trees were gigantic, stretching up high into the sky. The sounds melted his heart and terrified him at the same time. Thousands of hoots and howls, growls and snarls, screams and cries, all of them playing in one large symphony to Eywa. The most incredible spectacle, that he could see, was Polyphemus. It's ever watching gaze was overwhelming, staring down menacingly, challenging them in every way possible.

The area surrounding Hell's Gate was what he expected. A bunch of machines just welding grates and holes in the magnificent walls, sentry guns that moved back in forth on a rotating motor, Samson and Scorpion ships flying in and out of the complex, AMP suits doing tasks ranging from moving boxes to fixing large mining equipment, and RDA security officers roaming around, looking for things to do.

Stephen looked around, taking in the surrounding. '_Hell's gate,' _he thought, '_probably named it to boost their egos. Should have named it Troy. Look at the size of these walls._' Somebody hit his shoulder, running past him towards a group of amassing people. "Hey, what's going on?" He calledafter the man.

He turned slightly, yelling over his shoulder, "Fight!" Stephen never did like to watch to soldiers go at each other, but he thought it'd be a good place as any to find Trudy.

People were in a circle, most of the screaming stupid phrases, egging on the fight. Stephen tried to fight his way through the mob, but failed. Didn't matter, he really could care less about who it was fighting. He didn't see Trudy in the crowd either so he began to leave. Until, that is, he heard it.

"Come on Chacon! Kick his ass!" Stephen stopped instantly. He spun on his heel, grinding his boot into the dusty metallic ground, and took off towards the crowd again.

"Get her Wainfleet! Kill that spick!" One of them yelled. He happed to be the first one Stephen saw. Blonde buzz cut, perverted smile, slick teeth, malicious eyes.

'_Yeah_', Stephen thought. '_Jarhead if I've ever seen one_.'

"Get that fuckin' whore! Stomp her out!" He kept shouting. He wasn't the only one on Wainfleet's, who ever that was, side. But, he was the first to fall. He lay on the ground, crying in pain spitting out blood, and gasping for breath. Stephen shook his right hand out and began pulling glass and a tooth from his fist. A bunch of others were just looking on.

"Well, somebody get him inside." Nobody moved. "_Now!_" Stephen bellowed. That cleared out a small portion of the group. He made his way through the gap to the front of the fighting circle.

Trudy threw a punch at her opposition, catching him it the breadbasket. The man snarled and lunged at her legs, receiving a kick to the throat instead. "Come on asshole! You wanted to dance!" Trudy leaned down and beckoned the soldier forward with her fingers. The man curled back around, reaching into his boot. Stephen saw it from his angle, Trudy couldn't. "What are you, a woman? Let's go jerk off!"

"Trudy, no!" Stephen broke through and pushed her out of the way. She fell off to the side as he took a blade to the shoulder. It hurt like a bitch, but he didn't show any sign of pain. Stephen just stared down at the ex-marine. "I really suggest not getting back up." He began to walk away. He heard Trudy calling his name, along with a different voice shouting out in anger. Turning, he caught Wainfleet's wrist just before he struck. With a quick snap, faster than anyone could see, multiple bones appeared out of Wainfleet's arm. He screamed and fell to the ground, cradling the arm. "I told you _not to get back up_."

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Trudy shouted, walking right up to Stephen and shoving him in the shoulder.

"Helping?"

"Come here!" She hissed, grabbing him by the bicep and pulling him towards the hanger. They walked and walked, keeping the exopacks on.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Shut up." They made their way into the medical lab. "Max," Trudy called to a large, bushy haired man. "Get me a suture kit." The man nodded and ran off. Trudy pulled Stephen into a curtained off area. "Sit down."

"Trudy, what are you doing?"

"When I get that suture kit, I'm going to be stitching that up." She pointed at the gaping wound on his arm. "But first, I… Thank you." She said. She was looking away, as if she was embarrassed.

"Sure Trudy. Why did you take me all this way though just to tell me that though?"

Trudy got up and began to pace. "You don't know what it's like. I always have to prove myself here. I don't have any friends here. I _have_ to show that I can take care of myself."

"Well sorry for jumping in."

"No, no. That isn't what I'm getting at. You are my only friend here. _You_ are the only one who jumped in. I don't show my feelings, never. But, right now I'm gonna say fuck it, because I trust you."

She had walked over in front of him, lightly holding onto his shoulders. Neither had an idea how it was happening, but they were getting closer and closer together. Max opened the curtain with the suture kit.

"Here you go… Oh!" Trudy snarled and took it from him, sliding the curtain closed. She looked from it to Stephen's arm.

"How much does it hurt?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stephen shrugged. "I've had worse." Trudy smiled, one that Stephen didn't know whether to enjoy it or be afraid.

"That's what I wanted to hear." She tossed it to the side and moved closer. She grabbed his face and moved closer.

"_Stephen!_" his comm. link went off. They both looked at each other.

"What?" He replied, growing increasingly annoyed.

"_Get up here to the Command Center. Now._" Stephen and Trudy looked at each other. "_And bring Trudy with you._"

"Damn it." Trudy said, getting up.

"Don't worry. I think I got it."

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, I know. Way out of Trudy character. Don't worry, I might change it, or just twist the plot later. Until next time, I'm out. Oh, and please review. It's much appreciated.


	5. The Cold Does Some Crazy Shit To People

**The Cold Does Some Crazy Shit to People**

_It was blisteringly hot. That's the only way he could describe it. As a child, Stephen used to enjoy the heat. The heat meant summertime, it meant no school, and it meant he could spend time with his mother and Aunt Grace. Now, the heat meant no sleep. It meant constantly looking over his shoulder for an IED, or quite possibly, as of yesterday, a child carrying a box labeled "sweets", written in rough marker and in garbled English. Of course, they now knew that there really weren't sweets inside, instead it was filled with C4. And enough C4 to blow a three foot deep crater in the ground, as well as enough to take the Sergeant with them. That's where his new promotion had come from. He was now a Sergeant in the Colonial Marines._

_ Three months. That's how long they had been searching the jungle. Like a giant comb scouring the surface of a scalp for lice. Still, they didn't know what they were looking for and every time they asked, they'd get the same answer: "Keep looking. We'll tell you once you find it."How the hell were they supposed to look for something they didn't know anything of? Not what it looked like, not what it felt like, not who it was, or even who they were. Nothing. Not one damned clue as to what they had been probing for. If he had known, Stephen would have informed the men what their quest was, that was why Command wouldn't tell him shit. _

_ It was night and the heat was worse than ever. Bugs gnawed on their skin, even with the repellent they were given by Weyland Yutani. It was ridiculous and it was irritating. But most of all, it was pissing him off. Stephen smacked another mosquito on his arm before it could draw blood. It exploded in a small rupture of gore. He flicked it off of his palm into the fire. Even if the temperature was searing their skin, they still needed to see in the dark and dank jungle. Better to be hot than to be ambushed._

_ Still, Stephen felt uneasy. The boys were relaxing for the time being. Fourteen hours of constant movement through Venezuela really put a damper on physical conditioning. Colonial Marines and the regular Marine Corps, working together. It was quite a force to be reckoned with. And he was in command. Twelve boys. Five from his original squad and seven newbies._

_ His Aunt had always told him that he was a natural leader. He didn't like to think so. It gave him a falsified ego that he hated. He still refused to believe that he was all that good._

_ One marine, Sully, Stephen thought his name was, made his way over to him. Good guy he was. Smart, funny, and a tough son of a bitch. Boy took down an illegally purchased AMP suit by himself… with the help of a few grenades of course. Still, the boy showed no fear. Respect, that's what he had gained in Stephen's eyes. But, still didn't mean he could remember the kid's name._

_ "How's it goin', Sarge?" He asked, flopping down into the dirt next to Stephen. His weapon was still cautiously held in his hands. _

_ "Fine, fine. Temperature could be a lot nicer." The kid laughed._

_ "I heard that sir. Still, it's a beautiful jungle." He looked into the canopy above. Towering tropical trees almost moved as critters jumped from branch to branch. One of the only forests left in the world. And there they were, fighting a war inside of it. "I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if that's okay." _

_ Stephen nodded, indicating him to proceed. "That was some serious shit taking down a Mobility Suit by yourself. You deserve a little rest."_

_ Sully, he thought, laughed and shrugged. "Wasn't that hard. Though, I don't think we are out of the line of fire yet."_

_ "Yeah, I know what you mean. But that's war for you, Corporal. Never out of the line of fire. Never." Sully nodded._

_ "I just get the feeling that… that we are being watched." They sat quietly, listening to all the noises the world had to offer._

_ "Now that you mention it-"_

_ A man came bursting through the brush, covered in blood, screeching like a wild turkey. His eyes were filled with horror. He began randomly firing rounds into the darkness. The spray took three people out, three marines dead in only a few seconds. Stephen was quick to the draw, pulling his Colt Python .357 Magnum from his boot and putting a round in the crazed Venezuelan's shoulder, before he could kill anyone else. Five marines were on top of him, two GS-221 .30 CLMG's (Caliber Light Machine Guns) and two M41A Pulse Rifles were trained on him. Another Marine pummeled the man across his mouth. They were all screaming at him, all of them at once. The man was frantic, trying to throw himself against the blows, trying to get away. He stopped when a large boot was pressed against his chest and a silver barrel was just far enough away from his face so the man could stare down the dark tunnel. He stopped moving and gulped. The gun clicked, signifying the imminent danger it possessed._

_ "See? Every man listen's to the reasoning of a Colt Magnum. Now, son, this isn't your blood. I'd like to know… Jim, your mom is from Venezuela, aint she?" Stephen asked over his shoulder._

_ "Yes sir, Sarge." Jim never let his eyes, or his Pulse Rifle, leave the man on the ground._

_ "Mind translating for me?"_

_ "Sure thing." He lowered his rifle. _

_ "As I was saying, this isn't your blood."_

_ Jim translated while Stephen spoke. "_Este no es su sangre."

"_I'd like to know, whose it is."_

_ "_Me gustaría saber, quién es_."_

_ They waited, but the man broke down. He began crying and lightly thrashing around and around, whispering, "_Se han ido. Todos ellos se han ido._"_

_ "What's he sayin' Jim?"_

_ "He keeps saying, 'They're gone. All of them are gone.'"_

_ "Whose gone?"_

_ "_¿Quién se ha ido?_"_

_ "_Todos ellos. Todos ellos. Todos ellos."

_"He aint budgin sarge." Jim sighed and shook his head. "Bastard is scared shitless."_

_ "Well… Ask him, what happened to them."_

_ "_¿Qué pasó con ellos?_"_

_ "_La ... La selva, llegó a la vida y se los llevó."

_"What did he say, Jim?" _

_ All noise had ceased, nothing was moving anymore. The fire had stopped crackling, the animals had stopped moving. It was like the calm before the storm. Sully was watching the edges of the camp closely. Something was about to happen._

_ "He said… The jungle, it came to life and… took them." _

_ "What the fuck does that mean?"_

_ "Incoming!" Somebody shouted. A bright blue flash of light landed dead smack in the center of their hostage's chest. It erupted in a shower of bone, blood, and gore. _

_ "What the _fuck_ was that!" _

_ "Do you see them?"_

_ "Millitia!" _

_ "Shit! Open fire!" Stephen shouted, holstering his pistol and pulling out his rifle. In short, controlled bursts he sent lead into the darkness. Bullets went flying like a swarm of bees, mowing down all that stood in their path. Both sides were taking losses. Jim was struck right in the mouth, spraying blood, saliva, and teeth from the gaping hole, while chunks of his brain and skull were ejected from the back of his head. _

_ "Jimmy! They killed Jimmy! Mother fuckers!" Lance, another Colonial Marine, screamed and ran towards the brush line. _

_ "God damn it, Lance! Get back here!"_

_ "They fucking killed him! They killed-" Lance was hit by another flash of bright blue._

_ "What the fuck is going on!"_

_ Rounds flew by Stephen's head. He grabbed the closest Marine to him, Sully, he thought, and pulled him down. "Take cover!" he shouted. As he did so, a clinking noise was heard only a few feet to his left. He looked, his eyes wide with terror, and threw his arm up to protect Sully; the grenade went off._

"No!" Stephen trashed about on the freezing metal floor, grabbing at his synthetic arm. He opened his eyes and looked around, still panting and gasping for breath. He was drenched with sweat and shivering with extreme force. "Fuck." He spat out a bit of blood. "This is just fucking ridiculous." Seems he had bitten his tongue during the dream. He was sick of reliving his past.

They had been at Khione a week. Trudy, himself, and Grace. Well, it might of well just have been him and his Aunt. Even though they shared a room, Trudy had avoided him since leaving Hell's Gate. He was hurt, painfully hurt, by her avoidance. He didn't know why. He had his theories, but Stephen had never been good with women or his own feelings.

If he entered a room where she was, Trudy would quickly leave, using some bad excuse. When he walked into their room for the night, she was usually reading. She'd see him, and quickly flip over and pretend to be asleep. '_Yeah'_ he thought, lying on the floor with an aching head. '_Hurt is an understatement._'

He got up and grabbed a pair of clothes. He needed to release some of his anger. It was time he stopped taking a "_vacation_", he needed to get back into killing mode. Stephen was pissed and there was only one place he wanted to be. The Training Room. He got up and left.

He wasn't the only one up. Right as their door slid shut, Trudy turned onto her back. With both fists she punched the thin mattress and growled. She was horrible with relationships, even friendly ones. That's the thing though, her best one ever, wasn't so friendly anymore. Nobody had ever tried to protect her, besides Stephen. It infuriated her to no end, but it touched her heart tenfold that he cared enough to take a knife to the shoulder. She had almost kissed him. Almost being the key word. He hadn't minded either and that scared her. They had only known each other for a week, but it seemed like so much longer. After that night, the night he had spilled his guts to her, she had this feeling. It went deeper than anything she had ever felt.

Trudy never had a boyfriend growing up. She didn't like all that romantic jazz. For her, it was _carpe diem_. When she joined the Marines, nothing really changed. She dove into flying and did that religiously. It was the first thing she had ever loved. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Trudy had flown all three of them out to Khione right after their talk with Grace. It was of mass importance apparently. She'd never even heard of the area they were in, let alone Khione. Grace had explained to her that the Navi called it Eranda, Eywa's Breath.

Not only did they have to go on a wild and deadly goose chase, but Trudy was specifically told not to fly her Samson. It had crushed her. That was her baby, the only thing that kept her going. Okay, maybe that was a small exaggeration, but it was one of her most beloved possessions. Instead they had given her TN-348 Roc to fly. A bulky bastard, twice the size of her baby. The turns were sloppy, the controls were too new, and the hull was too bulky to her liking. She liked to be fast and precise. The Roc liked to go slow and turn whenever it felt to do so.

Trudy dug her palms into her eye sockets, grinding them down into her skull. She was tired. She was crabby. She was _lonely_. It pissed her off how she couldn't show her feelings, how she was expected to be the bitch that knocked a guys teeth out for breathing too loudly. For once, she wanted to be the one who needed help. And at that moment she did need help. She needed it horribly.

Their cabin wasn't big: two lockers, a double bunk, and two separate light fixtures for either of them. Warm air didn't pour from the ceiling that was about five feet above Trudy's head. Instead it was a balance of cold and not-so-terribly-cold air, the same kind that circulated through the base. It was necessary to have them conditioned, just in case the station last power. She shuffled underneath her blankets, biting the top one in anger, and then kicked the covers off.

Trudy hopped out of the bunk and felt a slight sting rise from her heel. She shuddered, taking in the cold. Swinging her head side-to-side she cracked her head. She took a deep breath and fought against the urge to jump back into her bed and hide underneath the covers, like a child hiding from the Boogeyman. She had to do this. The feeling she had was her Boogeyman, and hiding wouldn't make it go away.

Taking initiative, Trudy reached into her locker and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and pressed the pad next to the door. It slid open, the gears whining like a far off fire alarm. She walked out and let it close behind her. Her feet were cold, but she could handle it.

She couldn't hear her footsteps. She always could. That was part of her life. RDA standard issue, always on her feet. That was how she kicked ass. That's just how it was. But, things were changing. _She_ was changing.

Khione was rather large, so it was easy to lose someone in the halls. She'd done it to Stephen countless times. That was one good thing that came from her childhood in LA; she could hide anywhere, anytime. As she passed hallway after hallway, most of them leading to places not yet traveled, she had a feeling. It was as if she was being watched.

"What do I even say?" She asked herself. This wasn't her SA-2, this was more important. And she stopped right there. As that thought crossed her mind, she knew exactly what to say. Nothing ever came between her and her flying, between her and her baby. It clicked. Her skittish and un-characteristic behavior from earlier was gone. She was Trudy again. She was the RDA pilot who had thirty-nine banshee kills under her belt, the pilot who had flown into warzones against orders to pick up fellow marines. She was herself.

With her new revelation, Trudy sped up towards the training room, almost leaping like a hexapede. It was coming up quick, the door was. She felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster. The lights almost flickered out from the overload of energy being generated from the young pilot.

"Please." She whispered, pleading to no one and to some one.

The door was locked; she tried several times to open it but failed in each attempt. There were loud bangs and roars coming from the other side, loud and powerful. So, Trudy did the only thing left to do. She knocked.

***

"Mother fucker." Grace said, lying on her bunk, smoking the last smoke from her pack. It wasn't a big deal, she'd go and get more from the supply room, but that wasn't the point. No, the point was simple. She fucking _hated_ Quaritch. Even if Falco had gone crazy and had tried to kill them all, he was at least pleasant sometimes…

Quaritch, however, was a tough bastard. One who refused to give up, with his constant onslaught of pestering and nagging her to investigate the disappearance of "his" men. She had been up forty eight hours trying to find out where the closest Navi could possibly live, and she had been rewarded with nothing.

So, there she was, lying in the warm and comfortable bunk, smoking her last cigarette. Next to her was an open book, a photo album. Her most precious memories lie in the book. From the school they opened for the Omaticaya, to her graduation from college. From her acceptance grant for the study of bimolecular engineering on Pandora, to the first run through in her Avatar form. But her most precious memories were kept in the back. Behind the slick cover of the hardbound tome, she had them placed. Pictures of her and Stephen playing in the park near her house. Pictures of family birthdays and of good times. The sudden and strong reminiscence almost brought tears to her eyes. But, she couldn't look at them. Not with the camera in the corner watching every move she made.

That was why she hated Quaritch. He had complete control and he wasn't even there. The camera watched her like a thanator watching a wounded baby titanothere. It swiveled back and forth, the little motor inside making the most irritating of noises. Grace was a bit edgy. She stamped the butt out in the ashtray and reached for the pack. It seemed very light.

"No. No. No!" It was empty. She had forgotten it was her last, and the fact that she had to go and get another pack. "Just fucking great. Fuck. Fuck!" She was tired. A tired Grace Augustine wasn't much better than a leonopteryx in heat. She got up, slipped on some wooly socks, gave the finger to the security camera, and walked out of the door, looking for a pack of Baltimore Blues.

The halls were quiet. It was a tad unnerving. It was like someone, besides Quaritch and his hard on for power, was watching her. Something was off, something was _horribly wrong_. She hugged her shoulders and continued walking.

"Would you shut up for one god damn second! Jesus Christ, let me fucking talk!" Grace slowed down as she heard Trudy's voice. She crept up to the door of the Training Room and took the chance to peer in.

Trudy stood defiantly in front of Stephen. Stephen was breathing hard and sweating. On floor was a pile of decimated training bots, each of them ripped into strange and erratic patterns. '_This isn't going to end well._' Grace thought to herself.

"Well, go on then!"

"Maybe if you stopped being a dick for one goddamn second, I would! I came here to talk to you and you just start accusing me-"

"No, no, no. Don't even start that shit Trudy. You have been avoiding me. Each time I see you, you run away. I thought you were tough. I thought you had guts!" Graces heard a loud smack and a few footsteps patter away. She peered in again and saw Stephen wiping blood off of his lip. Trudy was shaking out her hand.

"Shit man, what the hell is in your jaw?"

"I took shrapnel to the face as well as my arm… Pretty nice right hook you've got there."

"Don't patronize me." She sighed. "Look, I have something we need to talk about, but before I can, i nee to know that we're cool." She spoke solemnly, holding out her fist. Stephen pushed it away, shocking Grace. He was never one to not accept an apology.

Trudy looked really lost after the small gesture was denied. Stephen wiped blood off his lip again, lightly blotting the wound with his thumb. He looked down at the floor for a moment and then back at her. "Yeah, we're cool." He put his fist out, but she did as he did. She pushed it away. "Okay?" Trudy also added to it, by grabbing his face and roughly bringing it to hers.

Grace's jaw dropped and Stephen's eyes grew wide. He finally fell into it, putting his hands on the small of Trudy's back, but Grace stood there, watching dumbfounded. It wasn't often that Grace Augustine was stumped. But things do happen. And as she stood there, watching the two, the lights at Khione went off. Red strobes replaced the once bright atmosphere. An alarm sounded. Something had breached the perimeter. Something was inside the base with them, and it wasn't human.

* * *

A/N: So, I know it's been a while. I've been working on this since... Oh boy, thrusday. I would have had it done sooner, but I got the Avatar Game and you know, shit happens. Khione is a name I took from the "probable" Greek Goddess of snow. Why did I use it? C'mon now. I hope you guys are enjoying it, more explanations will come with time. There is always a method to my madness... well, maybe not always, but still close.


	6. The Twins

A/N: I decided to change this up a little bit. I made some interesting add ins and what not in this chapter. Don't worry, more Na'vi interactions will appear in the next one. It's a full crossover now. Sorry :-( I can't help it. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**The Twins**

Nothing. It had been two hours since the alarm first rang. Two hours stuck in the security office. Grace cradled a cup of hot chocolate in her hands and sat in front of a monitor, watching for any more breaches in the complex. Trudy was lying down on a nasty looking brown couch, a beer in hand, fast asleep. Stephen was routing through the cabinet in the small kitchen.

"Doesn't anybody on this goddamn planet drink coffee?" He asked. He sighed and gave up. He went over to the chair next to his aunt and flopped into it, squeaking into the orange vinyl.

"First of all, it's a moon." Grace corrected him. "Secondly, Trudy and I have both told you. That shit _will_ kill you." She plucked a cigarette from the ashtray and took a puff.

"Right." Stephen replied, dragging out his sentence for effect. Grace gave him a look and turned back at the screen.

"I don't see anything. Nothing. Not one damn blip that isn't us." They both looked at the screen in silence.

The room wasn't overly large, but it was a comfortable size. Desks lined with camera links filled most of its perimeter, with a couch and a telescreen for movies in the center. A small kitchen area was put off to the side, adorned with a refrigerator and stove for cooking. That was it, small amenities, besides a bathroom that was.

"So," Grace spoke up, "what's going on with you and my pilot?"

Stephen blushed lightly, frowned, and shrugged. He honestly didn't know. He liked her, yeah, but thought that she hated him. Next thing he knew, she was kissing him and he was kissing back. It was much more confusing than pointing a gun and pulling the trigger.

"I think it's cute." His aunt told him, smiling slyly. A blip appeared on the screen.

**Beep. Tick. Tick. Beep.**

"What the…" Grace tapped some ashes from her smoke and nestled it between her lips. She set her cup down and leaned in towards the screen. "Son of a bitch." She whispered.

Stephen sat in his chair, just looking at the screen. Something about that noise, that beep, filled him with fear. He'd heard it before. His eyes wandered around the room, past Trudy's comfortable and beautiful form, to a locker. Getting up, he reached in no time at all. His aunt was typing away, trying to distinguish the signal. He opened it.

"Shit."

"What?" Grace asked, looking up. He stood there, holding a rifle and a box that beeped in the same way as the computer. He was just staring at her, a lost look in his eye. She repeated her question. "What?"

"Do you have any idea who operated out of here?"

"RDA. At least that's what I was told."

"You were lied to. These," he held up the weapon and box and shook them, "are standard issue for a Colonial Marine."

"Yeah, I've gotten your letters. That's a Pulse Rifle and that's a motion tracker. What of it?"

Their conversation woke Trudy. She sat up and wiped sleep from her eyes. "Whas-goin-on?" She asked.

"That means that this complex was used by Weyland Yutani."

"And?" Grace asked, getting very annoyed very quickly.

"Someone care telling me what the hell is going on?" Trudy spoke up again, stretching and standing up.

"Don't you get it!? These are the same people that controlled Olympus!"

Grace's face paled. Trudy just stood there, confused.

"What's Olympus?" She asked. Grace shot Stephen a look.

"You _haven't told_ her yet!?"

"No and I wasn't planning on doing so."

"What the fuck is going on!?" Trudy shouted. She was one step away from firing off a round or two from her sidearm.

Stephen and Grace looked at each other. "Well," Grace started, "you tell her. She's your girlfriend."

***

"Forward Post Foxtrot- this is Lieutenant Ryder, I need bombardment on my position!"

"_Roger that Lieutenant. Artillery strike commencing._"

"Finally. Heads down boys! We've got armor coming in!" Able Ryder was a living legend on Pandora. He had almost single handedly taken control of all occupied Na'vi territory. He had more kills than any RDA security soldier in history. So when Ryder called in for artillery, you didn't ask why. You asked how much he needed.

Ryder burrowed deep into a fallen tree trunk. The first screech fell to the ground like the hand of god. It shook the earth underneath him. "Keep 'em coming Foxtrot!"

"_Affirmative_."

"Lieutenant! More comin' in from the west!" a Marine shouted.

"Shit…." He took a moment to think. "Gauss, get in that AMP Suit."

"But sir, that thing," Gauss flinched as another round screeched down from the heavens, "aint worked in weeks!"

"You don't think I know that! Its intimidation factor moron, just get in it!" The roughneck scurried inside. "Alright boys, light 'em up!" Twenty-eight machine guns opened fired at the approaching Na'vi warriors. Some fell, others ran. One rather large bloke managed to take two full clips, get into their perimeter, and take out five men. He gutted them like pigs. All fire turned upon him. The warrior pulled a shield from his back and crouched behind it. It wouldn't take long to break down and Ryder was happy. He wasn't a fan of the Na'vi.

A flash of bright cerulean light cracked through the air. It sounded like a bullwhip hitting its mark. The light burned the eyes to even glance at, but it made everything stop. It reached the AMP Suit first, tearing through Gauss and leaving through the back. Blood shot out in a splatter, covering the broken and charred foliage behind them. No one moved, not even the native. All of them just looked around, confused, terrified.

"What the hell…"

Another flash cracked through the air. Ryder started to scream orders but no one was listening. They were firing all over, firing at nothing in hopes of hitting something. Again, Ryder tried to command his troops, but they were dropping to the ghastly cerulean light. One man's head exploded, sending chunks of skull ten feet into the air. Another's torso was separated in two. They were being slaughtered by fucking ghosts. Soon it was only Ryder who was left. He had taken shelter behind the AMP Suit, cautiously watching for their opponent to show their self.

Without warning, the metal on metal contact was heard from above him. He looked up but screamed in pain as his shoulder was pierced into the ground. He writhed in place, but he was a skewer. He began to pass out, the pain was so grand. Something materialized from the air, something large and not human. Nor was it Na'vi. It was something else, something worse. The Na'vi warrior stood and threw his shield to the side, his eyes wide with fear.

"_Meuia Taronyu_." The Na'vi whispered. Ryder's eyes closed shut.

***

It was an old legend the Omaticaya had.

Eywa had three children when she gave birth to life. One was the people. All Na'vi were her pride and joy, always loved, always looked after. They grew up in her eye, thrived to the full extent that they could. They, however brilliant and kind they became, were not the only ones though.

The Twins. Tsmukan and Tsmuke. Brother and sister. The brother was known as _Meuia Taronyu: Honour's Hunter._ Tsmuke was known as _Unil Vrrtep_: the Dream Demon.

Meuia Taronyu was not evil. He had simply left in order to explore and fill his thirst for blood, for the thrill of the hunt. He was intelligent and crafted weapons far greater than any the sky people would bring. His build was that of a statue, tall and strong. His sense of honour would never allow him to harm the innocent, only those worthy of fighting back would fall by his blade.

Unil Vrrtep was evil. She infected all those she chose and all those who crossed her path. No one was safe. The people ran from her in terror, leaving their homes of many years behind. She was far larger than any of Eywa's children. She towered with death, using her long tail to slice life from anything. A second mouth allowed her thirst to be quelled tenfold. The large crown atop her head symbolized her status. She was the queen.

But Meuia Taronyu would not stand for her rule. He fought neither for his mother nor the people. He fought for the thrill, the excitement, the honour of the kill. He slaughtered her army, her children, his nephews, his nieces, by the thousand. Na'vi fought with him, by his side, but not under his rule. He would kill them if they got in the way.

The battle between Meuia Taronyu and Unil Vrrtep was not seen. It was heard over the worst storm Pandora ever had. It was Eywa crying as her two children, the twins, fought to the death. The thunder claps were her heart tearing. The lightning was her warning for them to stop. Neither ceased. They were locked in a cave, fighting to the death. All the Na'vi killed Unil Vrrtep's children as their brother fought against the wretch. Her screams and screeches of pain rivaled his cries of war.

When the night was over, her children dead, Meuia Taronyu came from the cave with Unil Vrrtep's head slung over his shoulder. The victor walked off into the sunrise, not speaking a word.

There had many new songs since then. Many new threats, many lives lost. It was rumored that Meuia Taronyu had left with a single niece or nephew, to the sky. It was only a rumor though. But a prophecy foretold by the last Toruk Makto warned of his coming again. It warned of the events now happening. It was a sign of war.

***

Stephen sighed. He and Trudy were sitting on the couch facing each other. "Olympus was where I was stationed before transferring here. It's still in the Milky Way system; only it's further away from the sun than Pluto."

"I've never heard of it…" Trudy replied, scouring her brain for information.

"No, no you wouldn't have. It was a well kept secret."

"What do you mean by: was?"

"Well… I kind of, sort of, blew it up…"

"Oh." Trudy sat there and twiddled her thumbs. "Why?"

"Weyland Yutani is big into Military Engineering. They find a weapon they like and expand on it, trying to cash it in for the most money. Well, they found one, a living organism." Grace sat up from her monitor and listened in. She hadn't heard this part. "They found these… _monsters,_" the word rolled off his tongue with disgust, "and bred them. Xenomorphs are what us grunts called 'em. Nasty bastards they are. Sharp tails, tongues with mouths on the end, tall and powerful, but most of all, they were silent and had concentrated molecular acid for blood. They sneak up on you, without making a fucking noise and then manage to kill you after they are dead!" He punched the ugly couch, the ferocity and fear in his voice made Trudy shiver. "That's just the children though. The babies, they start off in eggs. They come out in spider like bodies, only to latch onto a host and fuck you in the throat, laying an embryo in there. Then that little bastard grows into a snake like thing. It eats through your chest to get out, killing you and growing into a body of death…" He paused for a moment to regain control.

"Weyland Yutani loved these things, they were the ultimate weapon. But they couldn't let the public know about them, it'd cause a major controversy. So they picked out a planet not yet colonized. Olympus. They bred those bastards there; they used their enemies as hosts. I was put on guard duty. There was an outbreak. I was the only survivor. I blew the place."

Trudy knew that there was more to it, but she didn't push. Stephen's eyes were unfocused and glossy. She moved closer to him and massaged his cheek. Another beep sounded from the monitor and Grace looked at it. Where there had only been one, there were now four.

"What the shit?" She tapped the screen again. Another beep and there were twenty. Then sixty. Grace's jaw dropped. "Um, Stephen? I think we might be in trouble."

The grates exploded from the floor as a shriek ripped through the air.

* * *

Sorry, I know it sucked. Reviews?.. eh prob not. Oh well. Can't blame you. I'll do a better job in the next one.


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